Dearly Departed
by SeGate
Summary: When her girl rider goes missing, will Emma have to learn how to say goodbye to Lulabelle?


Emma stood at her bedroom window and stared at the scene below as if she were watching some sort of play. Deep inside she knew life had to go on, even though one of her riders was missing. She could see the tension in everyone and feel the heavy strain of worry pressing against them all. Lulabelle. Where could she be?

Her Lulabelle was such spitfire. A young woman, really still a girl, trying to do a man's job in a man's world. And the truth, no matter how much Kid may have wished otherwise, was that she did as well or better than all the others. She was fast for one. And though her temper could be a sight to behold, she was smart enough to know that her size and strength meant she needed to be more strategic. Emma checked the clock again and frowned. She felt like all of her riders were her children, but she felt something special for her Lulabelle.

She worried about her girl rider the most. None of her riders had lived an easy life, but Emma knew all too well just how hard life was for a woman. And when that woman was young and unprotected... Emma shuddered at the thought. The way Lulabelle lit up with Kid, yet kept him at arm's length told her that her girl rider might know more about the dangers women face than she let on.

Through the window she heard Buck's voice call out the approach of some riders. He was soon joined in the yard by the Kid, Jimmy, Cody, and Mr. Spoon. Looking past the barn she could see Ike riding slowly and leading a horse loaded down with a… Dear Lord! Emma clutched the window sill and gasped for breath. Lulabelle!

She knew she should hurry out to the yard, but her grief and shock held her frozen in place. She continued to watch the others, looking for all the world like a casual observer yet feeling a sense of inner chaos. Her mind was filled with a dull roar, and her heart thundered like the hooves of a wild horse. She wanted to examine the form draped across the horse, but she forced her gaze back to Ike. His hands began to fly as he tried to explain the unexplainable.

Ike had been out on a ride over the same route her Lulabelle was supposed to take. His rapid signing was hard to follow, but she could faintly hear Buck's voice narrating the gestures. Ike came across a man who'd been shot dead. As he looked around, he saw the mochilla. It had been slashed open and it's contents strewn about. His hands fluttered helplessly for a moment before moving to his face to wipe his eyes.

The others became impatient to hear the rest of his story. Kid began to shout angrily at Jimmy, but Emma watched Mr. Spoon step in to settle the scene. Ike began to share the rest of his story. He found Lou's body not far from the mochilla. She'd been shot in the stomach, and Ike made it clear there was no sign of a struggle. So someone had ambushed her for the pouch and left her to die a slow, painful death. She'd managed to kill one of her attackers, but the others were long gone.

Emma felt an impotent rage building within her. Her girl rider was dead. Lulabelle was gone, and before she ever got to live. Lou was the identity she hid behind, meant to protect a vulnerable young girl from a world that sought to destroy anything innocent. But in the end, Lou was part of what destroyed her. She was so good at being something she really wasn't, that she was given the responsibilities and dangers meant for a man. She knew Lulabelle would have bristled at such a thought, but Emma couldn't help believing that she would have gladly faced the girl's anger if it meant having her alive.

She'd always wanted her Lulabelle to live the life she wanted, but she didn't think this was that life. What Lulabelle really wanted was to take care of her brother and sister. True, she wanted the boys to see that she was strong and capable, but she still wanted to be a lady. Emma had tried hard over the months to show her that she could be strong, capable, and a lady. In short, she could be Lulabelle.

Her attention was drawn back to the yard below. The grief and anger in her boys were palpable. She locked eyes with Mr. Spoon. He would have questions for her, no doubt. It must be a shock to not only lose one of his riders, but to learn now that Lou was Louise. There would be plenty of regrets to go around. But there would never be enough memories.

She thought about the gentle curve of Lulabelle's smile. The way she would tilt her head down to look over her useless glasses. How she encouraged the boys to seek out their hearts' desires. The way she looked at the Kid when she thought no one else was watching. The way she would take a stand without making a scene. It was about doing what was right and taking care of family with Lulabelle. A young girl trying to make her way in a bleak world, and leaving the warmth of her big heart behind.

And yet the fall had never felt so cold.

* * *

_**While looking for a possible song to use in my continuing story Return to Rock Creek, I happened upon a Stephen Foster song written in 1858. With the title "Lula Is Gone," I knew the story had to belong to Emma and her Lulabelle.**_

_** So I blame Stephen Foster for this...**_

_**Many thanks to Alfie for her help brainstorming a title.**_

_Lula Is Gone_

_With a heart forsaken I wander_  
_In silence, in grief, and alone;_  
_On a form departed I ponder,_  
_For Lula, sweet Lula is gone._  
_Gone when the roses have faded,_  
_Gone when the meadows are bare,_  
_To a land by orange blossoms shaded,_  
_Where Summer ever lingers on the air._

_Chorus._  
_Lula, Lula is gone,_  
_With Summer birds her bright smiles_  
_To sunny lands have flown;_  
_When day breaketh gladly,_  
_My heart waketh sadly,_  
_For Lula, Lula is gone._

_Not a voice awakens the mountains,_  
_No gladness returns with the dawn,_  
_Not a smile is mirrored in the fountains,_  
_For Lula, sweet Lula is gone._  
_Day is bereft of its pleasures,_  
_Night of its beautiful dreams,_  
_While the dirge of well remembered measures,_  
_Is murmured by the ripple on the streams._

_-Chorus._

_When I view the chill blighted bowers,_  
_And roam over the snow-covered plain,_  
_How I long for Spring's budding flowers_  
_To welcome her sweet smiles again._  
_Why does the earth seem forsaken? ¯_  
_Time will this sadness remove,_  
_At her voice the meadows will awaken,_  
_To verdure, sweet melody and love._

_-Chorus._


End file.
